Iona took a deep breath and hung her head, sitting with her legs dangling over the edge of the stage as she contemplated everything she’d discovered while researching the subject of Daemons. It was hard to believe and didn’t make her happy. Instead, she just felt exhausted. She knew her life was weird, sometimes absurd, but it had reached the point where she didn’t feel connected to anything anymore. Stacking up the true events of her life, analyzing the trauma and the extreme personalities she’d been surrounded by, the disassociation was undeniable; some days she woke up feeling more like a comic book character than a real person. It was enough to choke her into silence when she thought of trying to speak with another flesh and blood person about herself. She’d had to take a few steps back to really get a good look at it, taking a break from trying to write by drawing for a few days while she digested it.

Part of her wished she could go back, forget any notion of following the path she’d stepped out on when she decided to wipe the slate clean, make a fresh start, and do her Shadow Work with the intent of truly accepting herself in all of its aspects. As much as she dreamed of finding a place in the world where she could feel like she belonged, she knew then the only way she’d find it was to build one. More so, she had to face the fact that she might never find someone to share it with; chosen family, friend, or otherwise. There were no guarantees in life, no promises of companionship. Operating under the assumption that everything would turn out for the best was a fool’s errand. She’d some success in her experiments, not a lot, but enough to convince her she’d been on the right track for a while.

As it stood, she was sad to see the truth hidden beneath. Hope really was toxic. The hope of finding a home, of finding friends that could love her no matter what, the hope of finding others like her that could relate, understand, and be supportive without constantly making her question herself. All of it had set her expectations too high and seeing the reality, knowing she’d always have to dismiss and explain away people’s doubts to soothe their negativity in the face of something they didn’t understand or want to accept for whatever reason, broke her heart to think about. Speaking on the subject of faith in something bigger than herself had always been an uphill battle again those around her. Trying to claim she was anything more than the average fuck-up whose greatest hope of success was to disappear into a corporate toil until old age robbed her of her strength and retirement meant sitting at home, wasting away to the same routine in isolation, was an invitation for the ones she’d once felt were her greatest allies to ridicule and degrade her.

When she’d tried to talk to her closest friends about the work that she’d done, the spiritual awakening she’d been experiencing, how solid she’d begun to feel, how clear-headed and present in the moment, because it had to do with her spiritual self, had been met with passive-aggressive insult and citation of the other attempts she’d previously made as an example of her continued naivety. “Sure, I’m glad you feel better now, but eventually you’ll lose interest in all this stuff and realize it’s all bullshit so you can get back to being smart.” Or, worse, “are you sure you’re not just getting carried away by your need to feel important after feeling insignificant and ignored your whole life? Because, no offense, but there’s no reason why you could be meant for anything.”

On July 27th, she’d crossed paths with a budding medium, an unawakened witch, and another possible Daemon in the span of a couple of hours. The only one who didn’t join her Discord group was the medium. In less than twenty-four hours, the unawakened witch reconnected with Artemis in a way that was, for them, undeniable and overwhelming, and began their Shadow Work in earnest. The possible Daemon went quiet after the initial discussion in the general chat, and Iona had, again, turned her attention back to her research as best as she could, finding the key to understanding the evolution of Daemons from an independent spirit to a theoretical concept, as well as the acceptance thereof as a part of one’s self, thereby integrating it back into her own spirit. It was a breakthrough that had made her feel solid, clear-headed, and more present in the moment under a calm and rational mind than she had been her entire life. For a moment, she’d felt ready for anything. Then came reality.

She’d finished her essay at the request of Aphrodite on July 28th, posted it at almost three in the morning, and had immediately seen the next set of lessons. First, one of her oldest and dearest friends, after she had said she was a Hellenic Pagan, had laid into her entire pantheon, one by one, only giving a pass to Hades and Hestia, tearing each one apart with the worst possible character assessment based on their myths from two and half thousand years ago. Each word that fell from his lips was like a gut punch that nearly had her in tears as her only true fear being that he would offend them so much they’d leave again and never come back. She’d managed to keep her eyes clear, listened to what he had to say until she’d called him off from laying into the Titans as well, and then tried to present the argument of character evolution and development that was never recorded. They’d agreed to stay in their own camps, no longer talking about faith or spiritualism when they hung out in the future as they had in the past when she allowed him to convince her to be dismissive, which meant she’d felt the pain of another broken connection. When she’d shared what happened with another friend who had expressed their own desire for spiritual deepening, as well as her assessment of the lesson in retrospect, it had been completely ignored in favor of an entirely different subject. Again, she felt another thread break.

Needing to speak with someone who at least understood her spiritualism, she’d moved to chatting with her Novice and feeling grateful for their progress with Artemis because it reminded her of why she felt what she’d been working on was important. Celebrating their accomplishments with them had been a soothing balm and opened another theory for her experiment, trying to figure out what held people back for Shadow Work from a self-discovery aspect. The people she’d spoken to about the subject who were researching it for themselves or trying to teach about it, herself included at the start, believed Shadow Work had to include rehashing their trauma. Her Novice was like her in the fact that she acknowledged what happened to them and had been able to make peace with it. They had put in the work to face it head-on, let it go, healed as much as they could in their own circumstances, and were ready to flourish by discovering themselves without being held back by the trauma.

To present the theory, Iona asked the same friend whom she’d tried to talk to before about where they felt they were when it came to their own trauma, knowing they were struggling to let go and the spotty connections they experienced with the spirits. They admitted they weren’t at peace with it yet, which wasn’t a surprise, though they were making progress which was promising and gave her hope that not only was the theory more sound and possibly trackable to help others with their progress by identifying problems. Iona’s fatal mistake was sharing the reasoning behind asking her question and presenting her theory. It was the first time that friend had described any of Iona’s theories as sketchy. Iona had immediately asked if she was upset hearing about someone else’s progress as a genuine question based on the friend’s admissions to being obsessed with immediate perfection and achievement, admitting that she would feel envious herself if she was in the same situation. She wasn’t sure if the friend was trying to say that her Novice’s testimony was the part she was suspicious of or not, but when Iona pointed it out, it immediately got heated.

The friend jumped from feeling attacked, to dismissing their reaction as them being stressed out and set off by Iona’s “weird” behavior when the question wasn’t outside of the norm for the conversations they’d previously had about Shadow Work and spiritual growth. Whether it was just circumstance, their own internal struggle, or Iona’s ineloquence, the experience made it clear to see how easy it was to become the villain when she wasn’t afraid of asking hard questions. Another snap. Her friend wasn’t ready to let go of their own bad behavior and tended to fall back on their trauma as an excuse for it, pleading for understanding of their past to dismiss it. It made Iona realize her own bad behavior as well, preaching letting it go when she was still living it, throwing herself a pity party every time she went into crisis as a result of learning something new about herself with no one to talk to. It felt like, one by one, she was saying goodbye to the people she’d loved as she realized that she had to choose between pandering to them and taking care of herself.

When she heard Aphrodite clear her throat gently, she lifted her head from where she’d been staring off into nothingness, and was immediately aware of the moisture on her cheeks she hadn’t realized was there. With a sniff, she wiped her face and looked over, mustering a small smile for the goddess.

“What’s wrong?” she asked quietly as she came closer.

“Just grieving again,” she admitted with a mirthless chuckle. “I’m not sure what you’ve been up to for the last couple of weeks,” she said, looking at the date on the clock and realizing it was already August 8th, “but I’ve had to say my goodbyes to the hopes of keeping a few close friends in your absence.”

“I know,” she said sadly and then inhaled, but Iona stopped her gently.

“Please, don’t start on the ‘letting go makes room for better things’ bit,” she said. “It’s a cliché at this point and I’m not in the mood to hear it. I’m no stranger to grief, but these losses hurt because they were unique and, to me, extremely precious,” she added as the tears started again. “Joker was, for a long time, the only person I could trust not to make me feel stupid when it came to my spiritualism, that I could openly talk to and have intellectual discussions. But, after he got done tear us all down, making me feel like I’d been betrayed and lied to when I thought I felt better, when I thought I felt stronger, he openly admitted to losing his faith in everything, including himself, and had made peace with submitting to his own negativity and cynicism. Then, I see that happening again with a friend I love like a sister and have to decide if I’m willing to let her drag me down with her as I hold her hand to try to help her move on when I’m not sure if she really wants to or if she’s just saying she does. It took possession to get me to wake up to the toxicity in my and John Boy’s relationship. But I learned that lesson and now I have to mourn the loss of three more.”

“Three?” Aphrodite asked, her eyes widening a bit.

“Two is a coincidence, but three is a pattern, so I can already see what the lesson is,” she said choking on the urge to start screaming. “All this work to try and reconnect with the world and there was no point in it. The only friend I have right now that isn’t toxic is my newest one, which makes me wonder if it’s only a matter of time before I have to lose them. That then begs the question of, is it me? Am I the real reason the relationships turn toxic? How else can you explain the only common denominator in the relationships being my involvement, my choice to try and embrace the part of myself that defies explanation because it began as a concept? It began as a what-if and I decided to chase the White Rabbit down the hole to find out, I’m not Alice at all. I’m the fucking March Hare, the part of the fucking conscious that unabashedly points out bad behavior in the hopes of correcting it until I have become the source of toxicity in the room. That’s why the March Hare needed the Hatter to lighten things up and take the attention off of them; so they could calm down and realize that was exactly why nobody liked them when the Hatter was so beloved for doing the same thing with more entertainment.”

“You’ll find yours,” Aphrodite said.

“No, I won’t,” Iona said, chewing her bottom lip. “Come to me gently and of your own free will was answered with rejection.”

“Wait, what?” Aphrodite said seriously as her expression dropped.

“He's made it very clear he was happy where he was in his life and with people he was with,” she said. “He has no interest in even attempting to reconnect. I’m either too little or too much, too complicated, too simple, too old, too undesirable. Honestly, I should have seen it coming and let go of it sooner, but I held onto the hope that things would be better than the worst-case scenario. Yes, I remember what it was like to be bound to him, how happy I was. But I also know that back then I was the best he could get because there weren’t a whole lot of other options, and it was a risk I was willing to take that he’d find better after the shift. He apparently did, and I am thankful for that. He earned the chance to live his own human life the way he decided and his choices paid off. He’s actually happy, and with or without me, that’s all that I wanted. Even though it’s painful to let go, I can take comfort in that and be happy for him because, in the end, I got what I wished for.”

“No, sweetheart,” Aphrodite started in a slightly pleading tone but Iona stood up and walked away from her, leaving the goddess at the lip of the stage looking distressed.

“Don’t try to tell me I’m wrong, don’t try to reignite my hope for it to happen,” she said seriously, turning around hanging her laced fingers off the back of her neck.

“I don’t understand how that connection could get broken when it was so strong when I left,” she said.

“It didn’t matter how strong it was,” Iona said. “When I finished my essay and sat back to process it all, the hope and belief turned into conviction. I knew with every fiber of my being that we were connected spiritually. I could feel him at a distance to the point where I wasn’t sure whose emotions they were. That was when I realized our whole situation hinges on him consciously believing in spiritual and mental connections, not just being open to the idea because it’s ‘nice’. I know the argument because I’ve had it with myself, the imagination is fallible and subjective. It can’t be trusted. It can make us believe that we know what we want and try to force us into manifesting it. Feeling like you have been connected to someone your entire life without ever meeting them sounds like a bullshit fairy-tale style bumper sticker motivational tactic for those who are trying not to give up on love when they know all it would take is one last disappointment to give in to life-long cynicism and settling for almost to combat the loneliness. Unfortunately, I do believe it. And I didn’t give up on it, either. Whether we like it or not, the connection is there, but now it sounds like dead air on the other end of it. If in his conscious mind he doesn’t believe, the connection would still be there subconsciously. But this feels like a conscious decision. He gave me my heart back and now it feels broken. So, I’d say that’s pretty definitive as far as his answer.”

“That doesn’t mean you’ll never find love,” she started but stopped when Iona winced.

“I would try to believe you if it wasn’t for the fact that it was the third loss in such a short time,” she said. “Two is a coincidence, but three is a pattern. And they come on the heels of finding out exactly who I am and fully being present in the moment. Now, I don’t know if it’s because all three connections were made before I had the epiphany and, therefore, had to shed them. But losing my partner just feels like the cruelest way possible to make me realize I’m walking a path of true isolation with no light, at the end of the tunnel or otherwise. With all three people I’ve lost in the last two weeks, it has felt like I was holding out my hand, begging them to come with me, and no one was willing. I forge ahead and try to stay on this path, it’s a long, lonely road with nothing more than superficial connections. But, instead of lamenting what I want but will never have, I have to try and make the best of it. I can’t give in to the negativity and give up on doing some good in the world, even if nobody knows it. So, if you want to help heal my broken heart, don’t try to give me a romance pep-talk. Help me fall in love with my future instead of a person,” she said, trying to keep her words from turning into a plea.

“Ok,” Aphrodite said sadly and tried to smile at Iona’s relief.

*****

“I don’t like the idea of you treating your Daemon status as a dirty little secret,” Aphrodite said and Iona groaned from where she was stretched out on the stage, staring up at the ceiling as she tried to remember what the rafters of a proper theater looked like. “You did all that work proving it to yourself, but now you’re just going to be mum on the subject beyond theoretical academia?”

“Telling people I’m a Daemon is quite literally stating seriously that I am a mythological creature,” she said. “As it stands, I already feel like I’m living in a D&D world surrounded by Atheists, which means that I am the crazy person. Everyone I’ve told has immediately made me feel like I’m being placated by their agreement. It’s all for me to help me feel better, not them actually believing it. All that does is create an unnecessary point of pain in the relationship and fear the day when one of them decides involuntary commitment is the right thing to do because their hearts are in the right place and they think I’m delusional. And rather than end up drugged up, drooling, and strapped to a bed, I would rather just go back to being a concept.”

“Just because you’re a ‘mythological creature’ as you put it,” the goddess said, making it clear she was borderline offended by the statement, “doesn’t mean that you’re not a person or inhuman.”

“I know,” she said. “I did the research, remember? Aside from random agricultural phenomenon which could have just been someone who was an incredible botanist in Ancient Greece, the only ‘magical powers’ listed for the Daemon are based in communication and spiritual travel. Which, actually, made me feel better. It’s not waving your hands and spouting a few words, or combining ingredients for instant gratification as depicted in fantasy and fiction. I’m not a god in the flesh, and, if I was, I’d need only look to the story of Christ to see that I’d end up crucified if I openly admitted to it. Personally, I’d rather stay off the cross and just present it as a point open for discussion during a philosophical conversation. Then the only people who might start to suspect are those that are already open to it. And, since I really don’t feel like having to hear any more people try to accuse me of making shit up to feel more important, either, I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

“What about all of the research you did?” she asked.

“What about it?”

“If you’re not going to embrace the strength that you found, what are you going to do?”

“I never said that I wouldn’t embrace it, but I need to stop taking suggestions on how,” Iona admitted. “After I posted the essay and took a break, I started doing Word Art again because, to me, words are sacred and my biggest problem is being talkative. I’m wasting words by rambling on, repeating myself with constant explanations. Maybe, if I shared my diary online, that would be enough, but nobody who talks to me read it. It has an average view count of 25 per chapter and none of them are people who actually reach out to me on even a semi-regular basis. And, it’s not because my friends don’t care, it’s because none of them read unless it’s high fantasy or there are pictures involved.”

“Is that why you were thinking about doing a webcomic?” Aphrodite asked.

“That’s exactly why,” she admitted. “I don’t want to write about my present life anymore. It’s too depressing. I thought I could write from the perspective of a Daemon earning their chance to be human. The only problem is, the only concept I’ve ever claimed before has been Mayhem which isn’t included anywhere in the lore for the Daemons.”

“Ah,” she said in understanding. “Mayhem is a complicated subject,” she said and Iona groaned.

“Of course,” she said.

“When the Creator created there was Everything and Nothing,” the goddess said. “When Everything collided with Nothing, it unleashed Mayhem as Everything shattered and scattered all over existence, as did the rest of the concepts. When you try to lock on to Mayhem, which is there in your core concept, it takes you back further than your mind can comprehend and puts you at the center of it.”

“Great,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“But Mayhem didn’t stay Mayhem back then, it couldn’t,” she added. “There are a lot of humans alive today that can understand and identify with Mayhem. Especially those that are well aware of their own destructive behavior. Mayhem is the core concept of the Cacodaemons. But there is one Daemon that I know wasn’t on the list because they were the one who wrote it,” she added.

“I know this is you trying to lead me into discovering yet another unbelievable thing about myself as a Daemon, so just present your evidence,” she said.

“The first divine spirit to take human form was Astraea,” she said. “Even though she has the strength of a Titan, that automatically made her the first Golden Daemon.”

“Yeah, but I’m not Astraea or any reincarnation thereof,” she said.

“I know you’re not,” Aphrodite assured her. “This is your first human life which is why it was so easy for you to break free from the ancestors that came with your body. But Astraea gained a spiritual twin in the form of a bound Cacodaemon, the natural balance for her purity and innocence. Their connection changed the Cacodaemon’s core concept and it evolved into the first Silver Daemon. Which is you, dumbass,” she said bluntly and Iona chuckled begrudgingly at the not-so-subtle reminder of her being thickheaded. “Focus on recovering that story when you write the script for your comic. Trust me, that history will be enough to fuel your creativity for months considering it covers the war with Cronos, the acescent of Zeus to the throne, and what happened after he was crowned and destroyed all of the bridges,” she added and Iona nodded.

“All I have to do is find an illustrator,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I don’t mind putting my own story up as a creative venture towards financial freedom if all I’m writing is the lost lore of the First Silver Daemon,” she admitted. “But my modern life is officially off-limits.”

“Fair,” she said with a sad sigh. “Have you thought any more about your pilgrimage?”

“I don’t think I could handle traveling alone to a foreign country, to be honest with you,” she admitted. “Just thinking about it gives me a panic attack. So, Greece is out unless I can get over being stuck without backup or a haven if anything happens. However, I can do something more personal to me instead of just spiritually enlightening.”

“How so?” Aphrodite asked, quelling her disappointment.

“Make the trek from Broadway in New York to Lily Dale,” she said. “I feel at home in the theater and, had I had a better experience with it in the beginning and had been in a place that afforded more opportunities, I would have pursued a career in the field. So, visiting what is, basically, the Theatrical Holyland would be a dream come true for me, even if it’s just to see it in person. After I soak it up, I can head over to one of the hospitals to do my acts of devotion to Hades, Persephone, and Astraea by reading to terminal children during the three days of the full moon. Afterward, I can drive seven hours to the West and hang out with the witches until it’s time to go back on the next cycle. Maybe someday I’ll have enough resources to build a theater at the halfway point, turn it into a literal House of the Gods in which a Daemon resides, and fill my time writing scripts to reimagine the Ancient Greek myths.”

“That sounds like more than just a pilgrimage,” Aphrodite said with a small genuine smile. “That sounds like a plan.”

“And one that feels really good to me, even if I’m alone,” she admitted surprised by the sudden touch of excitement as the path unfolded in her thoughts, lining things up. “When I think about it, it actually makes a lot of sense. The first time I dabbled in witchcraft in Middle School, it wasn’t the magic that held my interest, as nice as it would be to snap my fingers to do something. It was more the spirit boards and the tarot cards, tools for communication. In High School, my interest shifted towards the arts; communication of emotion, which is the language of the spirit, across all mediums with a focus on the stage. After High School, it shifted again to writing scripts in my spare time while doing gig-work to fill the off-season between the Haunts and Ren Fairs. When I started living the life my parents wanted for me, it was customer service, which is still communication, but on a practical scale as opposed to entertainment. During that time, I went from scripts to novels as I played tech, writer, and director of the Theater of the Id with the spirits filling out the cast for me. Now, I can see the natural tendency towards scriptwriting, and the love of the theater has always been there and I miss it. Combining it with the monthly journey from the city to Lily Dale and back, as well as my acts of devotion, and the opportunities to give back to the community that can become available by having that kind of venue are undeniable,” she said, more than a little astonished by how easily she could see it. “I think I can finally see Elysium,” she whispered and felt her heart thump in her chest as she felt the truth of her statement.

“Now all you have to do is get busy building it,” Aphrodite said with a smile.